


An Invitation Taken

by narcissablaxk



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Gotham (TV)
Genre: First Kiss, Halloween, M/M, Oswald in leather pants, Season 4 canon divergence, halloween party, post-Nygmobblepot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-26
Updated: 2018-09-26
Packaged: 2019-07-17 17:58:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16100843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/narcissablaxk/pseuds/narcissablaxk
Summary: Oswald invites Jim to his Halloween party, and Jim finally accepts.





	An Invitation Taken

“Mr. Cobblepot, the new chandelier has been installed, and the cases of champagne have been left in the back, awaiting your instruction,” his assistant pushed her glasses a little farther up her nose as she read from her legal pad. “The last delivery we are waiting for is from the caterer, and he said he should be here within the next hour and a half to set up.” 

“Thank you, Julie,” Oswald replied, his eyes still on the chandelier, black and just slightly sparkling. “Let me know when the caterer arrives, would you?” 

“Of course, Mr. Cobblepot,” Julie said. “I am going to make sure the GCPD has cleared the sidewalk already.” 

Oswald didn’t answer; he tore his eyes away from the chandelier and took a seat at his bar, where his glass of seltzer was waiting. Beside the slightly sweaty glass was a stack of invitations, extras that he hadn’t sent out yet. Usually, they were saved for people he needed to bribe, city officials and criminals alike. 

He set a couple aside, three for Barbara Kean, Tabitha Galavan, and Selina Kyle, and slipped one into his pocket. He wasn’t sure if he had the courage to give it to the person he wanted to invite, but if the notion struck him, at least the invitation would be there.

“I’m going out,” he called to Victor, who gave him a two fingered salute. 

“Call me if you need me,” his faithful bodyguard replied.

Oswald passed Julie on her way back into the club, checking off yet another task on her list of things to accomplish before the party began. “I will call you when the caterer arrives,” she reminded him as he passed. 

“See that you do,” he answered.

The wind outside was brisk, with just enough bite that Oswald slipped his free hand into the pocket of his coat. He loved Gotham in the fall; he was free to wear his suits without any fear of overheating, he could take short walks in the park and watch the leaves change and litter the ground. The fall was peaceful; despite his penchant for violence, he did enjoy brief interludes of peace. 

Perhaps he would walk to the GCPD and give Jim the invitation he had in his pocket; the thought alone sent a wave of nerves through him and he immediately decided that would be a terrible idea. Jim wouldn’t come – it would be a repeat of his club opening, where he spent his evening waiting for him to walk through the door, only to be disappointed. 

He rode that wave of disappointment for days after that. 

“Fancy seeing you here.” 

Oswald didn’t have to turn around to know who it was. “What are you doing here, Ed?” he asked. 

“I came to make sure you got out of that bank vault okay,” Ed’s footsteps carried him into Oswald’s line of sight. He was still wearing that garish green suit, and Oswald had to remind himself that asking Edward if he only had one suit was not going to take this conversation in a productive direction. 

“I got out fine, thanks for checking in,” Oswald snapped, trying to push past Ed to continue down the street. Ed’s hand caught him around the upper arm and stopped him in his tracks. 

“I want to make sure you understand me –”

“To be clear, Ed, you’ve never been hard to understand,” Oswald interrupted. “And I actually have business to attend to.” 

Ed’s countenance hardened. “Lee refused your offer, Oswald, so let’s just leave it at that, there’s no need for revenge.”

Oswald laughed. “Oh, dear sweet Ed, there are plenty of reasons for revenge. But, to be clear, you are not important enough to be on my radar today. So whatever you came here to say, consider it said.” 

“If you come after Lee, I’m going to do the same thing to you.” 

Oswald rolled his eyes and pushed past Ed down the street. “You know what, Ed, that time in the ice made you even more annoyingly incomprehensible –”

“It would really be a pity, wouldn’t it, if something happened to Jim Gordon.” 

Oswald froze, his hand tightening on his cane. It would be so easy, he thought, if he could just wrench the knife out of the head of his cane and stab Edward in the gut, in the neck, hell, anywhere. It would end this miserable conversation that only reminded him that he and Ed would never be friends again; it would end this absurd rivalry that Ed apparently thought both of them were competing in. It would end all of his problems in one fell familiar swing.

“Your problem, Oswald, is that you make your affection for people so incredibly transparent,” Ed said smugly. “Me, Jim, hell, even that boy, Martin. You wear your heart on your sleeve, just begging to be broken.” 

“Jim Gordon can take care of himself,” Oswald snapped.

“But that won’t stop you from trying to protect him, and that is the whole point,” Ed pointed out. “And when you try to protect something, you always destroy it.” 

“As much as I’ve enjoyed this trip down memory lane, I really have somewhere to be,” Oswald said stiffly, trying to keep his anger under control. He could feel the beginnings of adrenaline starting in the tips of his fingers, sliding up his arms. He wanted to scream, he wanted to rage, he wanted to tear Edward apart limb from limb. 

But he was right, and the anger would only satisfy him. So instead, Oswald tightened his jaw and stepped past Ed once more. 

“You know what, I have somewhere to be, too,” Ed called after him. “Heed my warning, Oswald. I will not deliver it again.” 

“I’m glad you’ve found your calling as a delivery boy,” Oswald shouted over his shoulder, and the jab was just enough to help dissipate the rage that threatened to overtake him. 

***

By the time he made it to the GCPD, the fall air had calmed him enough that he no longer felt like he was going to stab the next person who looked at him wrong. He stood in the entrance, surveying the bullpen critically. It was mostly to wait out the roiling pit of nerves that had taken up residence in his gut, but Oswald refused to acknowledge them. 

If he did, he would turn around and leave. 

“Penguin,” Harvey Bullock’s voice was as jarring as ever. “Long time, no arrest. Come to make it easy for us?” 

Oswald turned around, a pinched smile on his face. “Harvey. Nice to see you.” 

“Isn’t it just?” he grinned, a piece of something stuck in his teeth. Oswald grimaced, his eyes moving past Bullock to the familiar silhouette of Jim Gordon, a few moments behind him. 

“Oswald,” Jim acknowledged. “Long time.” 

“I already said that,” Bullock pointed out. 

Jim’s eyes slid over to his partner’s for just a moment before landing back on Oswald. “What do you need?” 

Oswald’s hand slid into his pocket and closed around the coveted invitation. “Why do I always need something?” 

“You don’t,” Jim replied easily, “but your face says you do.” 

Was he truly that transparent? Ed’s words came back to him in a traitorous whisper, and Oswald almost apologized and left. But, he thought, would he rather be transparent and a fool, but possibly warn Jim about Ed’s inevitable vendetta? Or would he rather be transparent, a fool, and a coward. 

“I actually do need something from you,” he relented. “Can we speak somewhere private?” 

“Keeping secrets from me?” Bullock asked. 

Jim ignored him. “I’m in the captain’s office,” he said. “We can talk in there.”

***

Jim leaned against the front of his desk, trying to read Oswald’s facial expressions, trying to predict what kind of bad news he was bringing this time. But the man didn’t speak, but fidgeted with his cane, his knuckles pink, stark against his white skin. He looked…nervous. Nervous enough that Jim felt the same emotion spreading into him.

“Oswald,” Jim prompted. He jumped, as if his thoughts had carried him far away, and refocused on Jim. “You said you had something to tell me.” 

“I actually came here to give you this,” Oswald reached into the pocket of his coat and pulled out a black square, slightly folded at one corner. “It’s an invitation to my Halloween party.” 

Jim took the invitation, reading the gilded letters carefully. Nostalgia washed over him; the invitations were only a little different than the one Oswald pressed into his hand when he asked him to come to his club opening.

“You needed to speak to me privately because you wanted to give me an invitation?” 

Oswald shrugged, his eyes focused on the wall behind Jim. He furrowed his brows at him. More often than not, Oswald had no issue airing whatever grievances he had with the GCPD, with Jim, with anyone, publicly or privately. Whatever he had to say, it had to be important.

“That’s not the only reason you’re here,” Jim said knowingly. “I know you better than that.” 

“Suddenly everyone knows me so well,” Oswald muttered. 

Jim frowned, trying not to feel insulted. “Well, I don’t know about everyone –”

“Edward – uh, the Riddler – is threatening to harm you,” Oswald stammered, “if I ever harm Lee.” 

“The Riddler, after me?” Jim asked, momentarily relieved. “Not really a surprise. But why is he telling you?” 

Oswald’s gaze dropped to his lap, where he fidgeted with his fingers. “Well, uh, we were talking, and –”

“Does this have something to do with the bank vault I found you in last week?” Jim asked. “Because we already know that Ed and Lee were behind that robbery, and probably three other robberies in the same area.”

“Can we not talk about the latest entry to my most embarrassing moments reel, please?” Oswald asked. 

“Because I know you well enough to know that the person who locked you in that vault is going to be on your revenge list for a long time, and I –” Jim hesitated, catching Oswald’s gaze in the moment of silence. He took a moment to search his expression, trying to find a clue, a give, a tell. “I know – I know how you feel about Ed. Having him on your bad side must be difficult.” 

“My feelings for Ed are not important –” his face flushed bright pink, all the way to the tips of his ears. Jim pushed down a wave of displeasure at the reaction.

“Oswald, I’m not making fun of you,” he reassured him. 

“I would still like to never talk about it,” Oswald said firmly. “With you, or anyone.” 

Jim pursed his lips, taking the seat beside Oswald in front of his captain’s desk. “So if you don’t want to discuss that, perhaps we can discuss why Ed wants to use me as leverage against you.” 

“We don’t have to discuss that either,” Oswald hedged, reaching for his cane to stand up. “I just – I just wanted to give you a fair warning, that’s all.” 

“Oswald,” Jim called as the man hurried toward the door. 

“You really should come to the party, Jim,” he said, his back to him. “I have security expressly keeping Ed out of that party.”

“Oswald, please –”

But he was already gone, halfway to the stairs before Jim could even get to the door. Jim watched him go, his hypothesis rapidly taking form. Harvey followed his exit with his eyes and turned to Jim. “What the hell was that about?” 

“Put a tail on Nygma. The moment he slips up and does one illegal thing, even jaywalking, I want you to haul his ass in here,” Jim said firmly. “And I need you to find someone to cover my shift tonight.” 

“Tonight?” Harvey asked incredulously. “But you always work on Halloween.” 

“Well, I need this Halloween off,” Jim said. “I have somewhere I have to be.” 

***

“This party is beautiful,” Julie gushed, her face far too close to Oswald for his liking, but the music was so loud, he wouldn’t have heard her otherwise. He allowed himself a moment to smile, to take in the crowd, the extravagant costumes, the catering, the decorations. 

“This party is a success because of you,” he replied. He took in her costume, a white slip dress and angel wings, and gave her an approving nod. 

“Thank you, sir,” she said, flushing pink.

He glanced up at the clock, already dissatisfied with what he was seeing before he even registered that the party started two hours ago. He supposed he shouldn’t be surprised that Jim wasn’t there, wouldn’t be there. Of course he wouldn’t, not after the conversation they had at the GCPD.

“Ozzie,” Barbara slid into his side, her martini glass just barely sloshing over with the movement. “Did you hear the news?” 

“News?” 

“Nygma got busted by the cops today,” she leaned toward him like she was telling a secret, but she still had to shout over the music. “Apparently they got him for an unpaid parking ticket or something, but it’s enough to get a warrant for his place in the Narrows. He’s going back to Arkham tomorrow.” 

“They got him?” 

“Your nemesis has been caged,” Barbara smirked, clinking her glass against Oswald’s empty champagne one. “Congratulations.” He watched her slip into the crowd, heading, as she usually did, for Tabitha’s side. 

He placed his champagne glass on an empty tray and motioned to the bartender for a glass of scotch. Congratulations, indeed. 

***

“Your silly bars can’t hold me for long, Jimbo,” Nygma sneered from the holding cell. Jim glanced at his watch. He was over two hours late for Oswald’s party, and he didn’t even have a costume.

“I don’t need them to hold you for long, Nygma,” Jim remarked. 

“I’m guessing by your gruffer-than-usual demeanor that Oswald came to see you today,” Nygma called as Jim moved away from the holding cell. With an annoyed huff, Jim paused in his exit and turned back to the man in the ugly green suit. 

“You’re a smart man, Nygma –”

“No kidding.” 

“So perhaps you can use your big brain to tell me why you thought it would be smart to threaten me to frighten Oswald,” Jim said. “It doesn’t make any sense.” 

Nygma raised his eyebrows. “Are you serious?” Jim shrugged, and Nygma laughed, that loud, crazy laugh that made Jim’s skin crawl. “You really aren’t the smartest bulb, are you, Jimbo?” 

“Just answer the question –”

“Because he cares about you, idiot,” Nygma snapped. “If you want to get to Oswald, you threaten who he loves. That boy he was caring for is out of the city now, and I’m well…I’m me, so the only logical option left was you.” 

“That – but –”

Nygma smirked, and leaned back against the one bench that lined the cell. “Oh, Jimbo, don’t play dumb. It doesn’t suit you.” 

“Jim!” Harvey’s boom across the precinct was a welcome reprieve. “You know you don’t have to entertain the perps, right?” 

Jim glared at Nygma for another moment before he stepped away. “You’re right. Can you process him? I have somewhere to be.” 

***

Oswald spotted Jim the moment he stepped through the door, dressed in his usual suit and not a Halloween costume. He came, he thought, immediately tense. He actually showed up. 

Now what? 

He turned back to the bar, facing the comforting wall, away from Jim Gordon’s probing gaze that he knew would eventually find him. Perhaps inviting him was a bad idea; perhaps his costume was a bad idea. Perhaps he should just go back to his office and wait for the party to end, and then he could safely avoid – 

“Sorry I’m late,” Jim’s voice was gentle, but Oswald still jumped. 

“And without a costume, no less,” Oswald pointed out, tilting his head toward his detective garb. Jim, with a bit of a grimace, turned away from him, scanning the crowd. Oswald watched as he yanked a pair of glasses off a man’s face and slid them on. 

“There,” he said with satisfaction. “Clark Kent.” 

Oswald laughed, a response that took even him by surprise, and turned more fully toward Jim. “I like it,” he acknowledged. 

Jim’s eyes slid from Oswald’s down to his costume, a black silk shirt with a plunging neckline and leather pants. His gaze lingered on his bare skin, long enough that Oswald felt like he should cover up. Instead, he settled on crossing his arms over his chest, a movement that brought Jim’s eyes back up to him. 

“And uh – who – who are you dressed as?” Jim asked, a pink flush rising up his neck. Oswald surveyed him carefully; Jim was rarely speechless, and even more rarely did he blush. 

“I’m David Bowie,” Oswald motioned to the outfit. “I mean, I should probably be wearing more color, and –”

“That explains the lightning bolt,” Jim said, his hand reaching up and tracing the eyeliner Oswald painted on his face. His index finger barely brushed against his skin and Oswald went still, worried that if he moved, Jim would move his hand away. 

“I caught Nygma today,” he said quietly, his voice barely audible over the music. “He told me something.” 

The spell officially broken, Oswald sighed, tilting his head away from Jim’s hand. “I’m sure that was a fun conversation.” 

“He told me why he threatened me to get to you.”

Oswald motioned to the bartender for a drink, purposely keeping his eyes free of Jim. “You do know he’s crazy, right?” he replied. “Like, certifiably.” 

Jim didn’t answer, and in that reprieve, Oswald had enough time to down the glass of scotch the bartender slid across the counter to him. When the silence stretched beyond that, he turned back to Jim, whose eyes were clearly on Oswald’s bare chest. 

“You know, if something happened to you, I’d be upset,” Jim said, obviously trying to prompt Oswald into agreeing with him. “We’re…we’re friends, aren’t we?” 

“Old friends, James,” Oswald said sarcastically. “Ed told you that he threatened you because I care about you, right?” 

Jim, who had gone curiously silent, nodded. 

“Great, now you know,” Oswald sneered. “Now you can tell your friends down at the GCPD and have a laugh at my expense, like you always do.” 

“I don’t do that –”

“Now’s always a good time to start,” Oswald shot back, scooping up the new drink the bartender left for him as he rose from his seat. “If you don’t mind, I think I’ll be going back to my office.” 

He didn’t have to listen hard to know that Jim was following him; what else he could possibly have to say was the mystery. So Edward spilled the beans about Oswald’s very obvious crush on Jim Gordon, surely that couldn’t have been a surprise to him. Why was he here confirming it? 

“You don’t have to follow me,” he tossed over his shoulder as he passed his security and entered the back section of the club. “You can consider the conversation finished.” 

“I can’t,” Jim replied, “because I’m not finished.” 

Oswald turned back to him angrily. “What could you possibly have left to –”

He was prepared to yell, he was prepared to argue. He was not prepared for Jim Gordon to very gently pull him into a soft, tentative kiss. Oswald was so shocked that he had no time to react, or to kiss him back, before Jim was pulling away. 

“I didn’t come here to make fun of you, or argue with you,” he was practically breathless, and the knowledge that apparently kissing him had done that to Jim Gordon was incredible. “I came here to tell you that I care about you too.” 

Oswald furrowed his brows but didn’t move away. “I – I don’t understand.” 

“Imagine that,” Jim laughed. “The smartest man in Gotham can’t fathom that someone cares about him.” As if to drive home his point, Jim pressed a firm kiss to Oswald’s cheek, the one without the lightning bolt. “And I love this costume.” 

Suddenly his hands were just barely brushing the bare skin of Oswald’s chest and he was spurred into speaking. “If this is going to…” he couldn’t find the right word, so he skipped right over it, “perhaps we should actually get to my office.”

“Lead the way,” Jim stepped out of his space and Oswald stared at him for a moment, trying to find the tell that would give away the fact that this was a dream, or someone had impersonated Jim Gordon, whatever was going on here. But nothing came. So instead, he turned his back on Jim and continued down the hallway to his office. 

Unlocking his office door was difficult, with Jim’s presence looming behind him and the possibility of what would happen when the door was finally open looming in front of him. Oswald fumbled with his keys, almost dropping the entire key ring before he managed to find the right one to open the door. 

The door shut louder than he was intending, and the slam pushed the both of them into silence. Oswald waited for Jim to speak, but again, the man’s eyes were drawn to his bare chest. 

“I thought you said you weren’t finished,” Oswald pointed out. With a strangled sound that Oswald had never heard come from Jim’s mouth, he pulled his gaze back up to his face. 

“Oswald, you look fantastic, and I came here tonight with the intention of making some big grand gesture and professing my feelings for you and all that, but I would really like to kiss you.” 

“Kiss me?” Oswald asked incredulously. 

“I know that’s kind of doing things backwards, but I could probably give you a better speech if you weren’t in this damn shirt and the leather pants because right now all of my thoughts are just kind of mush,” Jim very slowly brought his hand up to Oswald’s face and cupped his cheek. “I just want you to know I had a very good speech planned.” 

Oswald met him halfway, matching Jim’s kiss with a fervor and enthusiasm that Jim could have only predicted in his wildest dreams; in spite of his plans to take this turn of events with Oswald slowly, to relish this moment, it didn’t take long before Jim turned Oswald and pinned him against the door, pulling away from his mouth to drop kisses on his exposed jaw and collarbone, trying to keep his hands under control. 

But Oswald had no such qualms, and before he even knew what was happening, Oswald had undone all of the buttons on his shirt and pushed it off his shoulders, his hands tracing the muscles of his chest and his abs. 

“Yeah, I can see how Clark Kent was Superman,” he murmured against Jim’s lips and Jim felt the compliment fill him up, and he finally allowed his hands to roam, sliding underneath Oswald’s open shirt to gently touch his skin, enjoying the way Oswald gasped when he did. 

“Careful now,” Jim said coyly, sliding his hands down closer to Oswald’s waistband, just barely brushing his hands below the material of Oswald’s leather pants, pulling away to watch Oswald’s face flush pink. “I don’t have to go there,” he pointed out, careful to seek permission when he knew it was warranted. 

“Oh come now, Jim, don’t tease,” Oswald breathed, and Jim allowed himself to cup Oswald over his leather pants, pressing a kiss to the column of his throat, listening to the way Oswald sighed in his ear. 

Oswald’s hands, clutching at Jim’s arms tightly, finally came loose and fumbled for Jim’s belt, pulling the buckle free so quickly Jim had to pause in his obsessive goal to kiss every inch of Oswald’s neck to make sure his mind wasn’t playing tricks on him. But Oswald’s hand was slipping below the material of his pants, brushing his skin, and Jim was suddenly sinking his teeth into the bare skin of Oswald’s shoulder to keep from making too much noise. 

“Why couldn’t you throw this party at your mansion so we could just go to your bed?” Jim was practically panting in Oswald’s ear, and the soft breath on his skin was just tantalizing enough that Oswald let his head fall back against the door, his eyes fluttering shut, a smile on his lips. 

“Tonight is not our last night, Jim Gordon,” he murmured, pulling Jim in for another searing kiss. “Tonight is just the beginning.”


End file.
